


The Pact of Ice and Fire

by NymerosMartell



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Jaime Lannister, BAMF Oberyn Martell, F/M, Grey Wind Lives, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Not for Hardcore Targ Stans, Oberyn Martell is a Good Parent, R Plus L Equals J, Rhaegar Targaryen Bashing, Rhaenys Targaryen Lives, Robb Stark is a Gift, Talisa Maegyr is Rhaenys Targaryen, Young Griff is a Blackfyre
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:55:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24037732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NymerosMartell/pseuds/NymerosMartell
Summary: At the start of the Dance of Dragons, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon flew to Winterfell to persuade Lord Cregan Stark to fight for Queen Rhaenyra. Jacaerys secretly married Cregan's sister, which led to a pact between House Stark and Targaryen, and it was agreed that Jacaerys' firstborn daughter would marry Cregan's son and heir. However, a royal princess never did marry into the Starks.History later repeats itself as Prince Rhaegar secretly marries Lyanna Stark, but instead of a pact, it results in a rebellion. Rhaenys Targaryen escapes King's Landing to be raised in Sunspear as Elia Sand, the bastard daughter of Oberyn Martell. When another civil war threatens to tear the seven kingdoms apart, she follows the army camps as a healer to seek out the Young Wolf and fulfill the Pact of Ice and Fire. Will their alliance bring peace and stability, or will the dragons dance once more to engulf the realm in ash and frost?New characters/relationships will be added as the story progresses.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister & Rhaenys Targaryen (Daughter of Elia), Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand, Robb Stark/Rhaenys Targaryen (Daughter of Elia)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 39





	The Pact of Ice and Fire

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic ever -- any concrit would be awesome! I haven't quite figured out where exactly I'm going with this, so just a heads up that new chapters are going to be kind of slow-coming.
> 
> Disclaimer: I know some things, but I own nothing. This fic's contents belong to GRRM and D&D (or at least up to season 4 lol).

280 AC — King’s Landing

Princess Elia Martell had laboured a day and a half to bring Prince Rhaegar Targaryen’s first child into the world. Though Rhaenys’ fierce cries were a strong sign of the dragon blood coursing through her veins, her striking Rhoynish features left little trace of Old Valyria.

Rhaegar proudly brought his firstborn to his family in the capital, leaving his wife to recover in Dragonstone with her uncle Prince Lewyn at her side. As he entered the hall with Rhaenys in his arms, Queen Rhaella burst with joy at the sight of her first grandchild.

“Oh, she’s beautiful. And she has your eyes. How is Elia, she is healing well, I hope?” Rhaegar smiled softly at his mother and nodded.

“Yes, mother. It was a difficult birth, but the maester says she is regaining her strength.” Rhaella visibly relaxed at her son’s assurances, all too aware of her own experiences of childbirth, as well as those of Elia’s mother.

“Good, I am glad. Vissy, come say hello to little Rhaenys.” Curious, the boy moved to go to his baby niece, but he was stopped by King Aerys’ cold, bony hand.

“No, I do not want him getting too close. She smells Dornish. He can see her from here.”

“Aerys—” The king slammed his tightly clenched fist on the armrest, slicing his hand once more on the sharp blades of the throne. However, Aerys paid no heed to the pain as he grew furious at the source of his eldest son's pride.

“I’ll not hear it, Rhaella. Our son thinks he can give this girl the name of Aegon’s sister-wife when Viserys is the last true dragon born of our house. She could be Dayne’s bastard for all we know.” Rhaegar’s indigo eyes turned stormy at his father’s accusations.

“Elia is true and kind, I will not have you slander her honour—”

“Her _honour_? Ha! I have had vipers circling my court and conspiring behind my back ever since you married that sickly whore. I know they whisper in your ear, boy, and I will not stand for it as long as I am king! Do I need to remind you what happened to the first Rhaenys?!” The babe started to wail at the raised voices.

“Enough, father. I shall hear no more of this...I’m sorry, mother.” The queen nodded sympathetically and Rhaegar flashed an apologetic smile at his young brother. Clutching Rhaenys closer to his chest, he left the throne room with Aerys still yelling at his retreating back, and seethed at his father’s latest paranoia. _How long will it be before he turns the entire realm against us?_

* * *

281 AC — Dragonstone

Though Elia was forced to remain bed-ridden for half a year after Rhaenys, it was not long before the princess gifted her husband with a son, nearly dying in the birthing bed. A boy with silver hair and violet eyes. Elia sighed a breath of relief that his claim to the throne would be indisputable. She suckled her newborn at her breast, smelling the salty air from the coast while Rhaegar rocked little Rhaenys to sleep near the fireside. 

“Have you decided on a name?” Elia asked softly.

“Aegon. What better name for a king?” Rhaegar responded, his chest swelling with pride.

“Will you make a song for him?”

“He has a song. He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire.” 

Rhaegar looked upon his two children with love and determination, gods be damned what his own father thought of their lack of purity and the growing Dornish presence in court. However, the moment of tranquility was cut short when the fire gleamed in his eyes as he spoke the words which would launch a war.

“There must be one more. The dragon has three heads.”

* * *

281 AC — Harrenhal

The crowd fell silent as the noble Prince Rhaegar rode past his beautiful wife and placed a crown of pale winter roses in the lap of Lady Lyanna Stark, the young daughter of Lord Rickard Stark. An uncharacteristic look of bashful shock fell over the young she-wolf, as Elia gazed upon the scene with remarkable stoicism, mustering a show of strength that her body had yet been unable to call forth since the birth of her infant son. Their wild and formidable brothers, Brandon and Oberyn, were quick to rise up in outrage at this unforgivable slight to their sisters, and had to be restrained by several men to prevent them from confronting the dragon prince. 

Rhaegar had been a good husband to Elia. He defended her family in his quarrels with his father, he was present at every birth to soothe her pain and whisper sweet words in her ear, and he deeply loved his children. However, it was not enough for him. Not without the prophecy, without the third head of the dragon. Rhaenys and Aegon would never be enough without Visenya. When the maester quietly informed him a few moons ago that Elia could not bear another child, he had sealed her fate as well as Lyanna’s.

* * *

283 AC — King’s Landing

As the only member of the Kingsguard left in the capital, it fell upon Jaime Lannister to defend the Red Keep from his father’s army of twelve thousand. Varys counselled Aerys against opening the city gates, but Mad King foolishly listened to Grandmaester Pycelle’s insistence that Lord Tywin had come to his aid. Jaime quickly realised the remaining royalist forces would not stand a chance against the westermen, and sent a messenger to ask the king for leave to make terms with his father when Elia Martell frantically rushed to him with little Aegon in her arms.

“Jaime!” Even in her panicked state, the Dornish princess looked resplendent in her black silk gown with red rubies sown into the bodice , mirroring the armour of her late husband . She carried herself with a regal grace, such that one would think she was more suited to don the Targaryen colours than her good-father.

“What’s wrong, Princess?”

“Rhaenys — she was with me in the nursery when that damn cat of hers ran off and she stubbornly chased after him. I thought she might be here with you. I must find her before the rebels, you know what men are like in the heat of battle.”

“I doubt it will come to that, but don’t worry, I’ll find her. My father’s army has yet to breach the outer ramparts, so there is still time. The holdfast will be the safest place for you and Prince Aegon to wait. The drawbridge is the only way in or out,” he turned to the Commander of the City Watch.

“Ser Manly, gather two hundred gold cloaks to escort Princess Elia and Prince Aegon to Maegor’s Holdfast. No one must cross that bridge, you hear me? _No one_.”  The dour knight nodded his understanding.

“Thank you, Jaime,” Elia gently squeezed his hand in gratitude. “You’re a good man.” Though he was the newest member of the Kingsguard, she trusted him the most after her own uncle. Aerys humiliated her, raped Rhaella, burned countless men — yet Lewyn told her that none of the other valiant white swords, not even Arthur, had voiced their concerns of his cruelty in private. None except for Jaime Lannister. Ever since her husband absconded with the wolf maid, Elia often wondered how different her life would have been if her mother's initial wish was granted and she had married Tywin's cub instead of her dragon prince. 

“It is my duty, Princess,” Jaime said, trying to hide how his young heart soared at the compliment.

“Well, duty seem to be in short supply these days. Rhaegar fell at the Trident and we are under siege, yet three of your brothers remain in the Dornish Marches, guarding Lady Lyanna. I had thought Hightower would spare at least one of them to help you.”

“The Kingsguard are sworn to obey at all costs.” 

“Yes, I'm afraid so. But you are also a knight, sworn to defend the weak and protect the innocent.” Because of her health, there were many who believed Elia to be feeble and delicate, who forgot that she was a princess twice-over, that the blood of Nymeria flowed through her veins. But as her sharp eyes and even sharper words seemed to pierce through Jaime like the spear of her sigil, he thought her to be as fierce as her mighty ancestors. _Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken_.

"And so I will, Princess."

* * *

Not long after Jaime ordered the escort for Elia, her wilful daughter crashed into him on the barracks. Her dark hair was unkempt and lilac dress soiled, but the little princess paid no attention, huffing in frustration as her wily black tomcat escaped her grasp once again.

“Rhaenys! Where have you been? Your mother was worried sick about you.”

“Balerion flew away and I followed him here. Is Mama okay?” Rhaenys' eyes suddenly became filled with remorse, and Jaime didn't have the heart to chastise her too harshly.

“She's fine, she’s with Egg in the nursery. But this is not the time to be running around the keep, Rhae. Stay here with me.”

“Okay. M’sorry Uncle Jaime.” Just then, the messenger returned, too terrified to look him in the eye as he nervously delivered the king’s reply.

“S-Ser Jaime. His Grace r-rejected your request for leave to make terms with the rebel force, and he…well…he s-said—”

“He said what? Out with it, I don’t have all day,” Jaime grew impatient at the man’s stammer.

“H-He said to bring him your lord father’s h-head to prove you are no t-traitor...I’m s-sorry, Ser.”

“I see,” Jaime cooly replied. “And where is the king?”

“With the King’s Hand, in the throne room.” His head snapped up at that knowledge. _Rossart. The bastard is going to burn the city down._

Jaime looked at Rhaenys with growing alarm, her indigo eyes wide with confusion.  When Aerys named Viserys his heir and kept Rhaegar’s wife and children as hostages, he knew as well as Elia that their lives were worthless to him.  _He means to kill us all. Not even Maegor’s Holdfast would be safe from the wildfire._

The Lion of Lannister lifted the young princess off her feet and brushed past the nervous messenger, hurrying down the steps towards the portcullis.

“What’s happening? Where are we going?” Rhaenys asked, her small arms tightening their grasp around his neck.

“I promised your mother I’d keep you safe. Do you trust me, little dragon?” Jaime felt Rhaenys nod against his neck. At a loss for how he could possibly explain his predicament to a three year old girl, he said nothing more as he entered the outer yard and drew his longsword from the scabbard at his hip.

Amidst the chaos of smallfolk scrambling to escape Lannister forces and ranks of the City Watch hastily marching out to meet them, he spotted a single flash of brown rushing toward a postern gate. Though plainly dressed, Jaime still recognised the errant soldier as Aerys’ loyal Hand, betrayed by his obvious discomfort at the ill-fitting disguise.

“Stay here, Rhaenys.” Quickly setting her down near the empty stables, the Kingsguard easily caught up to the feeble pyromancer, who drew his own paltry sword at the sight of the white cloak.

“I see you have sided with your traitor father against your sworn king!”

“Aerys will not be king much longer,” Jaime countered.

“No, but the Baratheon brat will not have a kingdom to rule when he arrives. Did you think if you kill me, the king will not find another to carry out his command? The true power of the Guild will be unleashed and you will be too late to stop it,” Rossart taunted. However, Jaime never had much patience for words and he slew the Hand of the King with one strike.

Realising that he was running out of time, he swiftly returned to Rhaenys, who peeked at him from behind a haystack.

“I-I-Is it over? Is the bad man gone?” He gave her a weak smile as he picked her up, which likely looked closer to a grimace.

“He’s gone, but there are more that I must defeat before we’re safe.” _Starting with your grandfather._ “Remember when you went into the Tower of the Hand? Do you think you can find your hiding spot again?” Jaime figured that with the Hand lying dead at the gates, no one would have a reason to search the tower.

“But you told me not to go exploring there.” He stopped in front of the kitchens and knelt down in front of Rhaenys.

“I did. But right now, we’re going to play a game. I want you to hide in the tower and keep quiet, don’t come out unless it’s me or your mother, do you understand?”

“I'm scared, Uncle Jaime. Don't leave me.” She sniffed, rubbing her eyes with the sleeve of her dress. He gently wiped a stray tear from her cheek.

“I know, I’m sorry, Rhae. I have to go, but it’s only for a little while. You have to be brave for me. I'll come back soon.” 

Jaime grew up with stories of knights achieving glory on the battlefield, and he idolised his fellow brothers when he joined the Kingsguard. He never once imagined he would become a glorified child-minder as part of his duties. He fumed when Rhaegar rode to the Trident, leaving him as a hostage to protect his wife and children while others fought honourably beside their prince. But he had grown to care for his charges, especially little Rhaenys, who he cherished as a happy respite from haunting screams and the smell of burnt flesh. If not for the million souls that remain in the city, he had to do this for them. He would be reviled as an oathbreaker, but he gave his word to both Rhaegar and Elia, and he would be damned if he didn't keep some oaths. _The ones that matter, anyway._

“Promise?” 

“I promise.” He could only pray that he wasn’t too late as he rushed to the throne room to finally put an end to Aerys’ madness.

* * *

Later that day, Jaime took his place at the foot of the throne, a few steps away from the pool of blood belonging to the king he betrayed. He grew increasingly annoyed at the look of utter contempt he received from the honourable Ned Stark. He knew he would be pardoned for his crime, thanks to the old falcon, but the young lion still let out a quiet breath of relief when his father finally entered the hall with his retainers to kneel before the restless stag.

“My men have silenced the last of those who resist your rule. King’s Landing is yours, Your Grace,” Robert gave a curt nod before Tywin continued his pledge. “As a token of House Lannister’s fealty, I present the wife and children of Rhaegar Targaryen.”

To Jaime’s unimaginable horror, three bodies were brought out to the foot of the throne, wrapped in the crimson cloaks. A woman nearly split in half and her eyes, left wide open, spoke of great pain. A baby boy with his head smashed in, nearly unrecognisable among the blood and brains save for the telltale tufts of silver hair. A little girl with dark hair and tawny skin, stabbed with what must have been over half a hundred thrusts. It was a gruesome sight for any, and Jaime turned sickly pale. And while Robert looked satisfied, Ned was livid.

“This is _murder_ , Lord Tywin. The men who did this should be executed.”

“Hang your bloody honour, Ned. This is _war_. You kill your enemies in war.”

“They were no more than babes, Robert,” Ned argued, bewildered at his friend’s reply.

Robert narrowed his eyes, the deep cobalt turning as cold as steel. “I see no babes. Only dragonspawn.”

“Listen to yourself, have you gone mad?!” 

“You dare call _me_ mad?! _Me_?!” The storm lord bristled as Jon Arryn attempted to calm the anger between them, but to no avail. The foster brothers came close to trading punches in place of barbs before Ned stormed out of the throne room in a rage. But Jaime paid no heed to their fight as he fought a battle within himself.

_No_. Elia trusted him to keep them safe, to keep her daughter safe, yet his father’s men had found them anyway. _What have I done?_ His mind became plagued with the image of Rhae tugging on his white cloak, asking him to play while her mother rested nearby, watching little Egg coo at his big sister. _I failed them all._

However, just as Jaime felt his stomach give a violent lurch, he noticed that while the girl had a Dornish look, she was not Rhaenys Targaryen. _She must have been one of her companions…if they haven’t found her by now, she must be safe._

“—Grandmaester Pycelle and Lord Varys remain under guard in the council chamber. Your son is the only one here who would know for sure.” Jaime finally roused from his thoughts, only to find all eyes in the room were fixed on him.

“Pardon, my lords?”

“We need to be certain. These are the dragonspawn, are they not?” Jaime stared at the bodies for another moment before clearing his throat.

“Yes, Your Grace. It’s them.”

“Good.”

_Just as well_ , Jaime thinks. _No one will look for a dead girl._ He observed the large dragon skulls lining the high walls, and felt their hollow sockets silently pass their judgement of him. Whether they did so for the king he killed or the princess he saved, he did not know.


End file.
